The Hope Factory A Novel - By Lavanya Sankaran Page 0,120
she said. “Come in, my little sister. Come. What is it?”
Thangam sat down hesitantly on the stoop, her expression a mixture of sorrow, coyness, nervousness, and numerous other things, like a hungry peddler of dubious wares. She whispered, not to Kamala but to the ground in front of her: “The necklace has been found.”
The news imprisoned Kamala; she could not move.
“The necklace was lying behind Vidya-ma’s dressing table.” Thangam’s words tumbled and spilled, urgently, full of a hidden pleading. “Everyone realizes that Narayan could not have done it, sister. Everyone! He is a good boy. And Anand-saar would like to see you…. I spoke to him about you myself, akka, and I asked him if I could run here and tell you the news, I know what it must mean to you, that is what I did, Kamala-sister.” And so saying, Thangam bent her head in abasement.
“Who found it?” Whoever had “found” the necklace was most likely the thief who had abstracted it in the first place. And who else could it be but Shanta? Who else would allow Kamala to suffer as she had done? Who else would rejoice to see her lose her job?
“I did,” said Thangam and burst into tears.
A great, sharp anger mingled with a vast, comforting relief. Kamala found it in herself to hug the girl close and pat her gently on the back until she got up to leave.
Alone, Kamala felt her fury rise once more, against foolish, greedy Thangam and Shanta the rutting bitch, who had not hid her savage enjoyment of Kamala’s plight. She knew, without having to ask, that her display of anger against Vidya-ma the previous day, however righteous, had surely cost her the job.
Anand-saar had told Thangam that he would see Kamala the following week. This would be to settle the salary she had due. She, in turn, could thank him then for supporting Narayan’s education for a few short weeks.
She thought of her old hopes and stopped herself. That was foolish. She had to look for another job. She had to find another home. She had to find some other method of educating Narayan. She sat silent upon her haunches, lacking the strength to move, utterly exhausted, drained of hope and will.
thirty-one
A CALL TO WAR. THE PLOTTING of a campaign. Already the schemes were unfolding within him, spores planted, the fungus spreading through, feeding on a hot, moist bed of anger. To twist things in his favor, Anand would have to employ not only his father-in-law’s manipulativeness but also a page from Vinayak’s cynical approach to democratic government. If that was what it took, he would. But how to get access to Vijayan?
The following morning Vidya, unwittingly, showed him the way.
She appeared at the breakfast table, freshly showered, wrapped in a shawl, taking refuge behind a cup of tea. Like him, she seemed to focus her energies on interacting with the children. By the end of it she had relaxed a little, the very normalcy of the meal calming her. “Ey, you know, I was supposed to go with Amir and Amrita to that fund-raiser this evening. But I can’t do it. I’m too exhausted. Can’t face anyone. Amir is going to be so disappointed.”
“You shouldn’t go,” he said, with sterilized, routine comfort. “Rest up.”
She said, and he snapped to attention: “Vijayan is going to be there, you know. First time I would be meeting him since Diwali…. But I just don’t feel up to it. I can’t even think of an excuse.”
“You know,” said Anand, “why don’t I go? Instead of you? I’ll speak to Amir.”
“Really? You will? That’s great…. Yes,” said Vidya, her eyes moist. “I really need my rest.”
HE CALLED AMIR IMMEDIATELY from the study. He could not share his various schemes with him, for Amir might not understand; he would urge Anand not to pay any bribes and to stand strong and watch his company fail. “Hey, buddy, listen, Vidya is not feeling very well and I was wondering if I could come to the fund-raiser instead of her? Yeah, should be interesting…. Yeah, I’ll swing by and pick up an invitation. Are you sure Vijayan will be there tonight? Great!”
Amir was in the small office he and Amrita used for their charitable work. It was cluttered with papers. When Anand arrived, Amrita was on her way out. “Hey, you!” she said. “Stranger! Don’t see enough of you…. But thanks again, for the latest check…. Are you coming to the fund-raiser tonight?”